First of all, my name is Mike, and I should probably tell you a little about me. I grew up in the Midwest, in a comfortable upper-middle class suburb of Chicago. When I was in high school, I was just a so-so student, but a better-than-average jock, and I played tight end on our football team. By my senior year, I had finally moved up to first string. We won our first six games of the season, and we were starting to think about winning the conference championship.
My sister, Beth, just a year younger, was a cheerleader. At the time, she was 5’4”, about 110 pounds, a gorgeous little thing with a knockout figure and abour 34C breasts. The thing I liked best about her was her marvelous “bubble butt” and long, sexy legs. I’d see her flash both when she occasionally lounged around the house in just panties and a T-shirt.
Well, this story is really about enemas and about finally fulfulling a fantasy of sharing them with Beth. I got started at about age eight, when I had a severe case of constipation and Mom gave me one. the funny thing is that, almost from the moment I saw the red bulb, I sensed that I would love the sensation of having it slipped up my ass and the water allowed to enter me. Mom only gave me a couple of bulbs full, before I was permitted to expel. I remember how I loved the sensation, even though I hid it at the time. My next enema was given under similar circumstances about three years later. This time, Mom used a two-quart
fountain syringe. I cramped up pretty good, but I still managed to take the whole thing. From that point forward, I would sneak out the bag when I was alone at home and had plenty of time to experiment. When I reached the age of sixteen, I finally acquired a driver’s license. I remember that one of the first things I did was to drive to another nearby town where nobody would know me, screw up the courage to enter a drug store, and purchase my own enema bag. I kept it hidden between
mattresses on my bed. At least twice a week I would take my equipment into the bathroom I shared with Beth and fill the bag with warm water. I would proceed to give myself an enema, most often in the knee-chest position. Sometimes I would be so randy that I would blow my wad even before I touched my cock. I finally got to the point where I could take
almost four quarts, or almost two whole bags.
One afternoon as I was finishing off a particularly voluptuous enema, I sensed that I was no longer alone. Unfortunately, in my haste to slide that beckoning bone up my butt I had left the bathroom door partially open. Staggering to my knees, I managed to get to the bathroom door, which I firmly closed and latched. I just prayed it wasn’t Mom or Dad. I’d sure as hell have a lot of explaining to do. Needless to say, my nervousness over who might have seen what ruined the enema itself. It took me fully half an hour to fully empty myself, clean up both myself and the equipment, then return to my room to get dressed again. When I finally unlocked the other door, I was surprised to find Beth at home. The sight of her lying on her stomach on her bed, reading a book, gave me a real jolt! Had she spied on me? Jesus, how could I ever look her in the eye! I was momentarily distracted by the fact that her skirt had slipped up slmost to her waist, revealing a lot of creamy, sexy inner thigh. She didn’t miss a beat, greeting me with a smile and asking me about my last practice. I breathed an inner sigh of relief, then
retreated to my room until dinner time.
Two days later we had our last practice before playing our biggest rival. If we could get past this game, we’d have a good shot at an undefeated season. After practice, we had a pep rally and bonfire, then back home for a good night’s rest. Beth had looked sensational in her cheerleader outfit. We are pretty close, but tonight we drove home in silence. I think both of us were pretty nervous about tomorrow.
Mom and Dad had had to leave town that particular weekend to attend an important convention, and for the first time in our lives, they left me and Beth alone for the weekend, along with about twenty “vital” reminders of chores to do. Neither of us felt like cooking, so we just grabbed a pizza and some soft drinks. After scarfing the pizza we watched a couple of hours of TV, talked for a while, then went to bed. Separately of course.
The next morning, I woke up about eight, feeling bloated. The game was at 1 PM. I sure didn’t want to play with a rumbling stomach. For one of the few times in my life, I gave myself a non-erotic enema. I wanted to do it quietly and quickly, so as not to disturb Beth. When I finished I felt a whole lot better. I unlocked the door to Beth’s side, opened up the door and peeked in. To my great relief, she was just starting to stir. I said, “Hi, sleepy head.” She just groaned and pulled the covers back over her head without a word. Since Beth was usually cheerful in the morning, I was surprised and a little concerned. But I was more concerned about the upcoming game, and so I went out to the kitchen and fixed a solid pre-game meal.
Beth didn’t stagger out to the breakfast nook until about 9:30. She looked a little pale, and her face was expressionless. “Boy, do I feel like hell,” Beth said. “Too much pizza last night. Why did you let ME have the last piece?” After a few seconds, she looked at my plate. “How in hell can you EAT like that after what we ate last night?”
I stifled the urge to spill the beans and tell her my secret as I mouthed down another bite of scrambled eggs.
“I just don’t know how I’m going to be able to cheer at the game today; I just don’t think I’m up to it,” she moaned.
I don’t know what caused me to do it, but I decided on the spur of the moment to take a huge gamble.
“Beth,” I began, “I just might have a solution to your problem. I don’t want to pry, but have you ever taken an enema?”
Beth looked at me, whether in awe or disgust, I couldn’t quite tell.
“An enema?” she asked, “Is THAT what you were doing to yourself the other day when I got home?”
I blushed ten shades of red. So my little “secret” was out.
“Yeh,” I mumbled, “Sometimes it’s just what I need to fix myself up.”
To my amazement, Beth then said, “Well, if it would make me feel good enough to be able to make it to the game, I guess I’m willing to give it a try.”
With that, she turned to go back to her bedroom, calling over her shoulder, “Would you whoe me where the equipment is and how to use it?”
My heart was in my mouth! Leaving the rest of my breakfast untouched, I raced back to my bedroom, pulled out the bar and hose from my hiding place. “Meet me in the bathroom, Beth,” I called out.
I few minutes later, she slipped into the bathroom, dressed only in her T-shirt and panties. I showed her the equipment, ran the water until it was the right temperature, then filled the bag and hung it on a low hook next to the bathtud. I showed her how to drain the air out of the hose. Not trusting my luck, I told her to be sure to lube the tip before insertion, then headed back to the kitchen to finish my meal. I could hardly get it it down, as my mind filled with images of what was going on in the bathroom. It was all I could do to keep from going back into my bedroom and jacking off. But I had a game to play in just a few hours.
Half an hour later, Beth came out in her cheerleader outfit. She looked a little better, but not much. “How did it work?” I asked.
Beth answered, “I dunno, I guess it helped a little. I feel a little better.”
Just then ahorn honked outside. It was Jeff and Matt, two of my best friends and team mates. We were off to for the pregame preparations.
The game was a see-saw defensive contest. With about two minutes left, we were down 13-7, but we were driving for the tying score and had the ball, fourth and goal on their five yard line. Matt called a timeout and went to the sidelines. Coach called for a quick slant-in, and I was to be the primary receiver. Matt barked out signals, and on the count, I started right at the outside linebacker, then cut abruptly inside. Matt rifled the ball to me, but it was a bit behind me, so I stopped, snared the ball, and turned for the goal, churning my legs to try to get into the end zone. Two defenders hit me simultaneously, and I lunged
for the line. We were down in a heap, then quickly buried by about a ton of humanity. While at the bottom of the pile, I tried to worm my way forward. The refs unpiled, and I realized to my disgust that I was about six inches short of the goal. The ball went over to our rivals. On the next play, they took an intentional safety, then kicked off from their twenty. Although we ran the kickoff back to mid-field, two desperation passes by Matt fell incomplete. Game over. We had lost 13-9. Any chances of a conference title were out the window. We trooped forlornly back to the locker room.
An hour or so later, we cleared the locker room. Beth was waiting for me, a gloomy expression on her pretty face. She gave me a hug and tried to cheer me up. We drove back home, saying little.
As soon as we were back in the house, Beth burst out in teers.
“Mike, I’ve got to talk to you. I’ve never had a more embarrassing day in my life. In about the middle of the second quarter, I was in the middle of a cheer when I felt an incredible need to go to the bathroom. Some remainder of the emema slipped out. It got all wet inside my panties, and I had to run to the girl’s room. I got cleaned up, but for the rest of the game, my panties were wet, and I couldn’t do any of the high-kick cheers. I was mortified.”
“Jesus, Beth,” I replied, I didn’t even think about that, what with this morning being your first enema, and all.”
“Oh, Mike,” she replied, “I’m not blaming you. I know you were just trying to help.”
After a few seconds, Beth confided, “You know, even when I felt upset, I found the whole thing kind of sexy. Do you mean to tell me you actually enjoy enemas?”
“Yeh, Beth, I must admit I do. You know, guys have a thing called the prostate gland. I’d never tell another male friend, because they’d think I was queer, but I find the whole experience incredibly erotic. I have to admit I usually masterbate when I give myself one.”
It so happened that neither of us had made Saturday night plans. I should amend that to say that Matt had called off his planned “victory party” and nobody had objected. Beth and I had the whole evening ahead of us, and we hadn’t even rented a movie.
Beth’s next comment made my day. “Mike,” she whispered, “Would you show me what an erotic enema is all about?”
I gasped in disbelief. When I caught my breath, I answered, “Beth, that is my ultimate fantasy. I’d love to introduce you to an erotic enema.”
“Great,” Beth grinned. “There’s no time like the present to get started.”
Without further words, we headed back to our bedrooms. “Mike, I’ll meet you in the bathroom in two minutes. Let’s both get undressed.”
Thrilled beyond conprehension, I bolted for the bedroom and got out the equipment. I quickly shuched my clothes. My 7 inch cock was at full attention. It jutted out, practically parallel to my stomach as I headed for the bathroom.
Beth entered just as I was finishing filling the bag. I hung it on the low hook once again, then returned to the bedroom for some pillows and towels. I spread the towels out on the bathroom floor to make a cozy place for Beth to lie down, then placed the pillows in the middle of the towels.
“Beth, why don’t you lie on your stomach with the pillows under your hips?” I whispered.
Her chest was heaving slightly as she lay down. I took a minute or two to savor the view of her exquisite upturned buttocks as she got comfortable. The sight of her incredible bubble moons slightly parting nearly sent my cock into a paroxysm of shooting. Almost painfully, Ifought down the urge to masterbate on the spot. Taking out the jar of vaseline, I uncapped it, hooked out a generous glob and started rubbing it between my fingers to warm it. Trembling with desire, I touched her
smooth calves, then traced my fingers slowly up the insides as her legs slowly separated. Even before I touched her incredible pink rose bud, I heard Beth moan with lust. When I first touched a vaseline coated finger to her asshole, Beth flinched, but as I slowly circled her opening, Beth flexed her hips voluptuously, then arched her back to invite my finger inside. Slowly, ever so slowly, I penetrated her bottom, swirling my finger slowly from side to side as I entered her bottom. By the time I was in up to my second knuckle, Beth was shimpering with lust.
“God, Mike, put the nozzle in!” Beth gasped.
Wordlessly, I slipped in the nozzle, then said, “Beth, I’m going to start the water now.” With that, I unsnapped the clamp.
As the first rush of water started gurgling in, Beth raised her hips off the towels, then started a slow, rythmic up-and-down fucking motion. All of this was just too much for me. I stood up and gazed down at the incredibly erotic sight below me. Without warning, my cock started spasming on its own. My first squirt landed in the middle of Beth’s churning back, and the next several spurts landed on the other side of her undulating body. Beth did not even notice. As the bag finally emptied, she slammed her pelvis down in the towels, humping them like craze as she exploded into a frenzied orgasm. It seemed like she came for five minutes before she finally collapsed on the pillows, exhausted.
Beth finally managed to gasp, “Mike, help me up. I’ve got to get to the toilet.”
As soon as her shaky knees could support her weight, she slumped onto the john and let go with her first torrent of liquid. Her face was the loveliest sight I had ever see, with her eyes closed tight and her mouth wreathed in a vuluptuous smile. As she emptied, Beth slowly epened her eyes.
“Mike,” she whispered, “That was unquestionably the sexiest thing I’ve ever felt.” After a moment’s pause, she continued, “You know, I’m a virgin, and I want to save it for now at least, but I’ve got to do this again.”
Well, after Beth cleaned up and rested for a while, she returned the favor. She was thrilled to give me my enema while I was in my favorite knee-chest position. She was amazed when I set my personal record by taking two full bags at once for the first time in my life.
That weekend, we must have given each other seven or eight enemas. I thought we’d wear out the equipment.
Those events took place several years ago. We both went off to college, but we played our enema games whenever we were home for holidays. Although we are both married now, we manage to get together for fun and games three or four times a year. I have never fucked Beth, and I never will, but on several occasions I have reamed out her water filled ass when it was churning with a couple of warn quarts. To this day, our enemas comprise the sexiest experiences of our lives.